#benoit blanc imagine

[bits-and-babs]

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐭 || 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

IMPORTANT! This fic was written with ONLY Knives Out as it’s source material, I haven’t yet seen Glass Onion. I have since been made aware 1000+ words into this fic that Benoit is gay as of the second film. I didn’t want what I had to go to waste. This is the only time I will write for him in a m x f relationship.

Summary: You introduce Private Investigator Benoit to Cluedo

Word Count: 3.1K

CW: FEMALE READER. Please see explanation above. sassy Benoit. Vague references to a mild age gap relationship, easter egg references to Knives Out film 🤭 Nylon Kink. A bit of knife play. Oral, f receiving.

Tease: “On the contrary,” he answers you with a playful lilt to his drawl, slowly sinking to his knees before you, “I intend to stay right here.”

“You’ve never played Cluedo?!”

Shock permeates each syllable of your parroted sentence, your jaw slack as you stare at your partner with complete incredulity. Benoit, in turn, peers vacantly at you like you’ve said something ridiculously dense.

“Ain’t that what I just said?” He asks you, his monotonous voice lacking any true irritation as he taps the ashes of his cigar into the ashtray on the coffee table between you.

“Nah, we’ve gotta fix that,” you insist, slapping your palms on your knees before raising from your armchair. Benoit peers over the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses, and his icy-blue eyes follow your body across the room.

“Now— Dear, you’ve worked a long shift; you can’t be runnin’ around playin’ detective with me,” he tries to reason with you, attempts to talk you down from the inevitable shitshow that was no doubt about to unfold in the shape of solution cards and miniature murder weapon props. It’s all fruitless, though, because you’re sweeping aside Benoit’s beloved ashtray and ignoring his protestations as you drop the board game’s box onto the coffee table.

Yes, you’d slogged a nine-hour shift and hadn’t had time to change into less formal attire. Your pencil skirt bunches up your thighs, and the button-down blouse collar lies taut against your throat. Hell, your nude tights are beginning to itch too, but you’re far too invested in this ridiculous adventure and refuse to turn back at the sound of Benoit’s listless objections.

“Here we go,” you mumble to yourself, sliding the lid off the cardboard box and electing to ignore the heavy sigh that Benoit hopelessly attempts to conceal. He leans forward to put out his cigar in the ashtray you had unceremoniously discarded on the wooden floor, eyeing you as you set out the board game items and distribute each piece evenly.

“Who would you like to play as?” You ask, offering out the coloured tokens in your outstretched palm.

Benoit peers at each of the six shades of plastic pawn figurines, his expression betraying his evident discontent. “You know I do this for a livin’, don’t you, Dear?”

Your scowl in retaliation to his query has Benoit snatching up the green token from your hand and setting it on his end of the table. Again you smile as though he’d never spoken and choose red for yourself. Reverend Green and Miss Scarlett.

Carefully, you shuffle the weapon, suspect, and room card decks. Then, as discreetly as possible, take the top card from each pile and put them into the murder envelope without peeking at the details on the other side.

Finally, ignoring the obnoxious sighs rattling in Benoit’s chest, you hand out the Clue cards. Five cards each for you and Benoit, four apiece for the pair of ghost hands; purple and blue. You pinch the dice between your forefinger and thumb, holding it in front of your lover's face. “Odd for purple, even for blue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he responds, clearly finding the process tedious already but suffering through for you. Your eyes are alight with excitement, a grin permanently fixed on your lips. How was he to say no? In fact, he found himself amused by your enthusiasm to understand his line of work— even if it was through juvenile means.

“Alright!” You giggle, rolling the dice to move your scarlet pawn token forward. “Let’s begin!”

-✩-

Chimes sound from the mahogany grandfather clock situated in the corner of Benoit’s living room. They’re almost deafening in the silence that has befallen the coffee table. Although it feels like moments, you realise the minute hand has completed a revolution of the face of the timepiece — You’ve been playing for an hour. You’re no closer to identifying the killer than you were sixty minutes ago.

Benoit appears bored to tears, chain-smoking cigars and even leaves his seat at one point to obtain a glass of whiskey. To the amusement of both of you, you hadn’t noticed his absence, too wrapped up in the game to realise he’d gone AWOL.

“Now, Darlin’,” he begins, cutting both the stillness of the room and your acute concentration with his southern drawl. “Don’t you think it’s time we called it a night? It’s gettin’ awfully late—“

“Benoit,” you whine petulantly, noting the wince it earns you from the older man. He certainly looks like he’d acquired a few more silver hairs since you began this wretched game. “I want to finish it.”

“Mhmm…” Benoit pushes his spectacles up his nose, glancing over the board with mirth, “I knew a man who wouldn’t admit defeat in a board game. Know what happened?”

You glance up at him, eyebrow raised in question.

“He died.”

“Benoit!”

Exasperated, Benoit turns his black cards over, revealing his weapon, room and character. He raises his hands in defeat, settling back in his seat and officially ruling himself out of the game. “There, you only gotta look at two suspects… You're not much of a detective, are you?”

“You‘ve solved it already, haven’t you?!” You gasp, looking up at him with wide doe-eyes and dismay. He answers with a firm nod of his head. Perhaps it was foolish of you, but you really thought you’d established egalitarianism with a board game. “Well, go on, how did you know?”

Benoit inhales, opening his mouth to speak and finally put an end to this ridiculousness. “Well, now, I—“

“Wait!” you shout out, holding a hand up as though it would physically restrain the syllables of his deduction from leaving his lips. “I’ll figure it out myself!”

Sullenly, Benoit sinks back into his armchair, admitting defeat and allowing you to play out your inspector fantasy. He pouts for a few moments, watching you furiously exert your mind with the evidence before dragging his gaze over your uniform.

A quiet man, reticent in nature, Benoit rarely discussed his appreciation for your work apparel. Yes, the pencil skirt was lovely and hugged your body well, and the blouse accentuated your bodily aesthetics, but it was the tights that really captured his imagination.

In truth, Benoit was fascinated with your nylon wardrobe and could go so far as to say it was somewhat of a sexual preference. A kink. He enjoyed the sleek look they gave your legs, their shine underneath lights. Once, the feel of your stockings in his hand as he held your foot up to aid in fastening one of your heels had set him alight.

Gazing at your legs, folded over one another as you attempted to piece each clue together resentfully, Benoit felt heat rise under his collar. The nude tights you were wearing are perfect, sheen delicate beneath the faux-candelabra light fixtures. There’s not a tear, ladder or hole in sight.

He planned to amend that.

Benoit lifts himself from his seat, skirting the coffee table easily and approaching you with long strides. You momentarily glance up from the clue card in your hand, scowling to yourself as he advances. “So embarrassed with my detective work that you’re retreating to bed, Mr Blanc?”

“On the contrary,” he answers you with a playful lilt to his drawl, slowly sinking to his knees before you, “I intend to stay right here.”

Momentarily, your mind works like an old television with a crooked aerial antenna. Static fizzles between your synapses, and you cannot come up with a retort to Benoit’s cheeky inference.

“Best keep your mind on the case, detective,” he murmurs, palms settling on your ankles and tracing up the sides of your calves, “We wouldn’t want the killer gettin’ away now, would we?”

You swallow thickly, holding the cards with shaking hands as you feel Benoit place a lingering kiss on the inside of your knee. He skirts the tip of his nose up the inside of your thigh, humming softly as he squeezes the meat of your calves in his hands.

Focus. Focus. It couldn’t have been Benoit; he’s rescinded his cards. So, it was one of the Ghost Hands. Blue was suspicious, and you’d already discovered she was carrying a wrench. However, she had a decent alibi… Meanwhile, you had barely anything on Purple.

You roll the dice again, the face showing a two rather than the hand glass you had been hoping for. Gritting your teeth, you attempt to rake over the evidence, only to be interrupted by your vision swimming suddenly.

Benoit’s nose notches against your clit through your tights, his head practically buried beneath the fabric of your skirt. He groans softly, inhaling the scent of your sex. You whimper, the edges of his glasses pressing against the junction of your thigh as he presses a delicate kiss to your slit through your panties.

“Do me a favour, Dear,” he breathes against your thigh, pressing kisses to the nylon fabric. He doesn’t have to state what he wants from you explicitly. Fumbling with clumsy hands, you set the cards down quickly on the armrest and pull the hem of your skirt over your hips to give Benoit better access.

“Much obliged,” he whispers to you, and you can hear the gratuitous smirk playing on his lips. Attempting to ignore him and focus on the cards, you endeavour to read the clue, which is written in plain English. You haven’t yet fully deciphered it, thanks to Benoit’s tinkering.

He has other plans, though, nipping at your skin through the fabric of your tights. You jolt slightly with each bite he gives you, and you can hear him chuckle beneath you.

“Anythin’?” Benoit teases you with a combination of kisses and nibbles trailing up your thigh. It takes a moment for your answer to form on your tongue, toes curling in your heels.

“Mhm- N-Not yet,” you stumble over your words despite your attempt to conceal your evident appreciation for his affections.

“Hmm,” he hums, the rumble in his chest setting your hair on end as he, once again, presses lingering kisses over your panties. “I feel a noose tightenin’.”

Everything inside you freezes, and you’re quick to glance at the miniature weapon icons. The rope lays dead centre of the pile, and you’re forced to reconsider everything. Was Benoit giving you a hint?

Admittedly, you don’t have time to contemplate. As you open your mouth to question him, Benoit sucks on your clit through your panties. Your line of questioning dies in your throat, instead coming out as a strangled ‘Ahhh~’.

As quickly as he offers you the blissful sensation, he’s stealing it away. He pulls back, sitting on his haunches, and you’re blinking back your arousal to see him clearly. “W-Why did you…?”

Benoit hushes you gently with a wicked smile. “I think you should focus on the case.”

Smug bastard.

Filled with the desire for retribution, you cast your eyes back to the clue cards in your hand. They’re slightly creased now due to the tight grip you’re holding them with. You manage to make out the words ‘Name One…’ before a clicking sound pulls your attention away yet again.

The glint of light reflecting off the blade in his hand had your heart seizing. Not in fear, no, but exhilaration. See, Benoit carried the flip knife on his person always. It was less of a weapon for self-defence than a family heirloom, and Benoit never took it out without good reason. Simply asking to see it would not gain you access to the elusive dagger.

Your breath hitches, adrenaline buzzing down your spine.

“Now, hold still,” Benoit insists, impossibly blue eyes gazing up at your face through the lenses of his glasses. You nod quickly, both showing him you are listening and urging him forward with his plan.

You watch as he leans forward, slipping the knife's point into the nylon at your crotch. Utterly motionless, you whimper as your lover pulls the handle upwards and slices through the fragile material with ease.

“Been wantin’ you to keep these fine stockin’s on …” Benoit whispers against your thigh, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh there as he closes the knife with a click and slips it back into his pocket.

“H-Huh?” You tremble beneath his affections, his lips travelling further up the inside of your legs, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Case, Detective,” he replies flatly, sliding the pad of his index finger against your slit through the cotton of your panties, “You’re deducin’ a murder weapon— it’s in plain sight.”

“Right,” you nod dumbly, swallowing back your arousal and glancing at the board. The box said the game was suitable for ages eight and up; surely it shouldn’t be this difficult. There had to be evidence you had overlooked. Your notes are settled on the coffee table, and you venture to decipher the evidence as you take up the booklet with trembling hands.

But then Benoit is hooking his finger inside the crotch of your panties, pulling the fabric to the side and exposing your sex. You almost drop the notepad on his head. “How ‘bout you take me through your notes, Dear Detective?”

You would, God, you absolutely would if you could. However, Benoit’s tongue drags against your slit, and your mind goes numb, buzzing as though it has a pins-and-needles sensation. He hums, amusement lilting his voice as he watches you struggle.

Overwhelmed, you completely forget about the game of Cluedo, tilting your head over the back of the chair and sliding your fingers through the greying man’s hair. The notebook falls from your hand, clattering against the wooden floor but you’re already too far gone to care.

Eager to please you further, Benoit is gripping your thighs, lifting them so they settle on his shoulders. The nylon tights rub against his neck this way, and you’re sure it spurs him on because he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit. It jolts your body forward, and that maddening chuckle sounds between your legs again.

“Now, Darlin’,” he croons, and you’re whining due to the lack of friction already, “You be careful. The killer’ll be gettin’ away.”

You choke on an apology, Benoit burying his face into your cunt and sucking at your clit keenly. He’s swirling your clit with the tip of his tongue, one, two, three times, and then dragging over the seam of your sex to lap up your slick.

Not only was the man eloquent, but he was also persuasive with his tongue. Trembling in your seat, you sob out as your muscles tense against it. Your legs twitch against the shoulders of his suit, and you arch your hips up to grind against his face.

“Detective,” he prompts you, and you suck in a breath like you’re coming up for air after being suspended in water. Your eyes roll back, and you try to focus hard on what it is he’s requesting of you.

“Hngg- B-Blue has a go-good alibi—” you let out an obscene whine, the wet noises of his tongue dragging against your soaked pussy diverting you from the task at hand.

“Mhmm?” He hums, and the vibration has you bucking against his face again, sobbing out his name in a broken whimper.

“A-And I’m not sure about Purple!” You squeak out. God, it’s so messy. You’re soaking his face, and you’re sure you can see your slick glossing up his nose and chin. If you stained the seat, you’re not even sure he’d mind; the blues of his eyes engulfed by the black of his pupils.

It’s a wave of pleasure building, teasing at your abdomen and throbbing through you with each pulse of your heart. You inhale deeply, feeling it tease at the edges of your skin. You’re devastated, overpowered by the ecstasy clawing at the base of your spine— you don’t even notice what it is you’re saying.

"I-I-It was the- ohhhh fuck, Benny~" you sob out, tears rolling down your cheeks, “It’s you— Hgnn fuck!-!”

"Hm? Use your words, dear. You're makin' an accusation, you know. Don't want to slip your words now." He’s entertained by your bewilderment, “Especially when the person you’re accusin’ has given you a damn good alibi.”

You’re so far gone that you’re not even embarrassed that you’d just implicated the one person you could be sure wasn’t the killer. Swallowing sobs, you watch as Benoit circles your clit repeatedly with his tongue, eyes staring straight up at you and watching you come apart.

It all happens so fast. Your toes are curling in your shoes as the cramping sensation of your oncoming orgasm takes hold. One of your shoes falls off and clatters to the floor, and Benoit places the flat of his palm against your pubic bone.

“Oh God-!” You choke out, whining as he continues with the devastating pattern he’s drawing. “I’m gonna— Shit, Benny, it’s—“

He’s nodding without removing his mouth from you as though he’s telling you ’I know’. It’s shoving you right off the edge, those beautiful blue eyes blinking slowly and taking in every inch of the image of ecstasy on your face.

It pulses right between your legs, throbbing against his tongue like a pulse. You scream out his name, all of the muscles in your body tensing so hard that you’re cramping. Your vision goes white, and you’re gripping Benoit’s hair so tightly that you’re surprised you don’t rip any out.

You’re suspended for a moment, and then everything melts away, every inch of your body melting against the plush of the seat. Distantly, you recognise the smile against his lips, pressed to your skin.

“… Who was it?” You slur like you’re drunk on the dopamine he’s just overdosed you on. He laughs heartily, and you can’t help but smile with him.

“Blue.”

“Fuck!” You gasp out, palms covering your face and digging your nails into your hairline. As if! “When on earth did you figure that out, Benny?”

He sits back on his knees, pulling the handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping his chin and nose to remove the slick you had rubbed onto him. “Mhmm… Why, I figured it out the moment you laid out the cards.”

You scoff now, disjointedly sitting up in your chair. The muscles of your arms are like jelly, and you struggle to raise yourself. “Are you that good that you could tell at first glance?”

Again, a smug smile plays at the edge of Benoit’s lips, his eyes flicking up to your face.

“No… I simply saw the cards you drew.”

END

Taglist 🏷️: @hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @astroboots @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @ofmortems @hold-our-destiny @xcatnapsx @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina @inklore

#benoit blanc #benoit blanc x you #benoit blanc x reader #Benoit blanc x y/n #Benoit blanc x f!reader #benoit blanc imagine #Benoit blanc fanfic #Benoit blanc fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #knives out fanfic #knives out #knives out 2 #glass onion #Daniel Craig

[bi-bard]

Christmas Day - Benoit Blanc Imagine (Knives Out)

Title: Christmas Day

Pairing: Benoit Blanc X Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 621 words

Warning(s): not having family/friends

Summary: (Y/n) had started working with Benoit Blanc more and more. When he finds out that (Y/n) doesn't have anyone to visit for the holidays, he decides to reach out and try to make their holiday season a little bit better.

Author's Note: Happy Holidays! I am not one who usually writes Christmas stories, but I thought that this would be cute.

--------------------------

I was never expecting to work with Benoit Blanc.

He was one of the best detectives in the world. He always seemed like a one-man team that may have been forced to work with others in certain situations. I didn't think that he had any interest in recruiting someone to work with him.

But after working one case with him, he started reaching out more and more.

Slowly, I started to feel like an actual partner. Like we both saw each other as equals.

Which probably wasn't close to true. He was pretty much my boss.

He was a nice guy. A little excitable when there was a mystery, but otherwise nice and honest. A good person.

I don't know how Benoit found out that I didn't have anyone to spend the holidays with. I'm sure that if I asked then I would get some long-winded explanation about how some small thing that I did or said.

I only found out that he knew when he asked me to join him on Christmas.

"What?" I replied, thinking that I must've misheard him.

"I want you to join Phillip and me for Christmas," Benoit repeated.

I was silent for a few moments before I finally got myself to shake my head. "No, no. I can't do that. I don't want to intrude-"

"Nonsense," he cut me off. "Phillip and I would be happy to have you."

I took a deep breath.

"I don't want you spending Christmas alone," he continued. "Please?"

I sighed. "Fine."

"Good," he grinned.

Christmas day, I found myself walking up to Benoit's place and knocking on the door.

"There they are," Benoit cheered as he pulled the door open. I chuckled at him.

He pulled me into a hug. I barely avoided hitting him in the back with the bag that I had brought for him and Phillip.

"Merry Christmas," he stepped back. I said the phrase back to him.

Phillip stepped around him and gave me a softer hug. "It's nice to see you, (Y/n)."

"Thank you for inviting me," I said. I held the bag out to him. "I brought a gift."

"Oh, you didn't need to do this."

"It's the least I could do," I waved him off.

"Well, it's good that you mentioned gifts," Benoit walked over to another part of the room, coming back with a wrapped gift. "Open it."

I chuckled before pulling the wrapping paper off.

It was a collection of pens. Nice pens. I traced my thumb over the case.

"You mentioned enjoying having good pens to take notes with," he explained. "There are the best that money can buy."

"You... You didn't have to-"

"Yes, I did."

"I can't accept-"

"You can and you will."

I stammered for a moment before looking down at them again.

After a few moments, I moved to hug Benoit again. He chuckled before hugging me back.

"Thank you," I muttered. "For everything. It's more than I deserve."

"That's not true," he mumbled back to me before stepping out of the hug. "Now, come on, Phillip is quite the entertaining cook."

"Only because Benoit burns everything that he touches," Phillip added.

I laughed before hopping onto the barstool next to the kitchen island.

The night was spent chatting, watching Phillip do most of the cooking, and eating.

They were both so kind to me. It didn't feel like I was a burden or that I was in the way. I felt like a part of the family. It was a new feeling for me, but I really enjoyed it. I could get used to feeling like that.

All I could hope was that I could somehow show them how much that meant to me.

--------------------------

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#knives out imagine #knives out fanfiction #knives out x reader #glass onion x reader #glass onion imagine #glass onion fanfiction #benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc fanfiction #benoit blanc x reader #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

[starryevermore]

Hey I’m a new knives out/glass onion/Benoit blanc enthusiast and I noticed your requests were open. I was thinking about Benoit being very easily flustered around his s/o (always blushing, being at loss of word) and maybe how others around him react to THE Benoit blanc just turning into mush whenever his little human is around 🙃 you can do whatever you want with that, I just thought it was a fun idea

lovestruck detective ✧ benoit blanc

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Hey I’m a new knives out/glass onion/Benoit blanc enthusiast and I noticed your requests were open. I was thinking about Benoit being very easily flustered around his s/o (always blushing, being at loss of word) and maybe how others around him react to THE Benoit blanc just turning into mush whenever his little human is around 🙃 you can do whatever you want with that, I just thought it was a fun idea  - anon

pairing: benoit blanc x male!reader

word count: 457

warnings?: fluff, not proofread

it was almost comical, how flustered blanc got around you. how the usually calm, collected man would trip over his words. how his face would burn red. how he’d forget what he was doing the moment he laid eyes on you. 

in your not-so-humble opinion, that was the true marker of someone being in love. your mother had always told you, don’t trust a man who’s suave and can sweet-talk you into anything. those kind of men don’t care about you. those kind of men only care about what you’ll for them. no, no, she’d say, fall for the man who’ll trip over their own feet when they see you. fall for the man who can’t think straight because you occupy his mind. fall for the man who’d move the heavens and the earth just to see you smile.

when you first met blanc, it was at some stuffy party. a friend of his invited him, apparently in an effort to get the stoic man to lighten up a little. you had gone to network. both of you ended up bored out of your minds at the open bar. you caught his eye as you flagged down a bartender. he spilled his bourbon straight down his shirt. you laughed so hard you snorted. that night, you left with his number and a promise that he wouldn’t make another mess like that again. 

except, well, he did. he took you out to dinner, a real nice restaurant with a menu of foods you could hardly fathom the pronunciation of. he offered to order something for you, and you agreed. but when the waiter came, blanc was too busy staring at you to notice. when he finally did order, he stammered his entire way through until he was red in the face. he was so flustered that, when the food arrived, he ended up dropping his entire plate on his lap. you still didn’t understand how he managed to do that. 

people hardly understood how a man like benoit blanc could get so tongue-tied and starry-eyed around you. they’d always comment to you that he wasn’t what they expected. that they expected someone like james bond or batman. someone who didn’t let their feelings show very often. and, to be honest, that was usually true. blanc wouldn’t have the career he did if he wore his heart on his sleeve. but you brought out a side of him that he couldn’t hide—that he didn’t want to hide. 

so, yeah, blanc became something of a lovestruck full around you. he’d turn completely to mush the second he was with you. but you loved every second. because you’d be lying if you said you weren’t the exact same around him. 

#benoit blanc x y/n #benoit blanc x male!reader #benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc x you #benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc fan fiction #benoit blanc fanfiction #benoit blanc fic #benoit blanc fanfic #starrywrites #starryevermore

[pickledpascal]

Daniel Craig Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series:

The Missing Link

Secret Weapon

ONE-SHOTS:

Achilles' Heel

Biological? I Barely Know Her!

Elle, Why Are You Up?

Support Local Business Women!

Dish Switch

Love Ya, Bye!

Stacy's Dad

Love Language

Researched

Red Carpet Realness

Do You Feel Bonita?

Speculation

Love Through The Years

Clear Air, Clear Lungs

#benoit blanc/reader #benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc/you #detective benoit blanc #benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc #knives out #glass onion #rian johnson #gay benoit blanc #queer #gay #mlm #oc #benoit blanc x oc #benoit blanc x ezra wayne #daniel craig #james bond #bond movies #007jamesbond

[mobius-m-mobius]

Benoit Blanc you will always be famous

#daniel craig #benoit blanc #knives out #glass onion #submitting the above to declare him a character of all time <33 #god imagine getting even one of these lines but ALL of them? delivered in the most impeccable of accents we could ever be blessed with?????? #listen i finally got around to rewatching knives out and nearly keeled over when he said the truth falls at his feet he's so powerful 😭😭 #the way i love him more than life itself... #edited the last gif bc i hadn't realized 'vainglorious' was a word but am so very glad it is and will be peppering it into conversation asap #movieedit #dcraigedit #glass onion spoilers #dianagifs

[hoyalaland]

for the third knives out movie let’s continue the pattern of “blanc solves crime with women of color/working class” and have an east asian or southeast asian woman be a transfer student to idk harvard and is insanely intelligent however she can’t speak english easily and when murder happens she gets blamed pretty easily bc racism but blanc is a feminist so is on her side

#knives out #glass onion #knives out glass onion #benoit blanc #ana de armas #janelle monet #kate hudson #katheryn hahn #netflix #no bc imagine #movies #chris evans #leslie odom jr #dave bautista #rian johnson #hugh grant

[we-were-angels-once]

obsessed that blanc always needs a buddy for his investigations. he goes into crimes and first and foremost chooses the bestie he can gab with about clues. peak

#imagining him kicking his little legs behind him on a bed and sharing gossip abt the case w his new crime bestie #hes gay your honor #i love this man #knives out #glass onion #benoit blanc #daniel craig

[windsweptinred]

So, the great 'RULES' of the Endless. I know they're meant to be there for their own and everyone else's 'good'. To avoid cosmic imbalance blah blah blah. But look at them from a slightly different angle and they smack of far more insidious Divide and Conquer tactics.

Don't interfere with each others affairs. I mean, technically speaking all your purposes are so deeply interwoven with each other, it's more unnatural to keep them forcefully divided. But if you all could just stay in your own realms, do your own thing and interact as little as possible. That would be grand! Whatever you do, don't work as a cohesive unit!

Don't spill each others blood. Who doesn't want everyone to stay alive and unharmed? Right? But it also handily protects Ma and Da from any form of retaliation. A convenient way to defang the children...Just saying.

And finally don't love mortals. Yes. Please do keep your emotional distance from the very beings whose subconsciouses form and sustain you. Loving a mortal... Uff, that would be like you having a full working understanding of the core of your power. Then sticking your cosmic charger right on in there for a XP boost. The horror!

Seems to me someone really doesn't want the Endless siblings as the united, powerful front they could be... 🤔

Can someone get Hob in here to call bullsh*t on this please?

#dreamling #the endless #hob galding #Who came up with these rules anyway? #And did any of the Endless every think to question them.. Ever? #Was Nada just an awful coincidence #Hob come Benoit Blanc this cosmic mystery and then hand Dream a match and let him burn the feckers down #The Endless siblings as a united force. #Tis a thing a beauty to imagine

[papas-pizzeria]

I think it'll be great if the next knives out movie is a musical

I also think it would be great in this musical Benoit Blanc is just so confused why everyone just decided to sing randomly

#knives out #glass onion #benoit blanc #musicals #just imagine with me #everyone is singing about how unfair it is that someone was murdered and murder is bad or whatever #and blanc is just like: what the shit is going on????? why yall singing now SOMEONE JUST DIED #knives out musical

[wonder-stuck]

Wow, who on their 2020 bingo had Elon Musk killing Andrew Tate at his own murder party and then accidentally burning down his private island home while he had the Mona Lisa inside.

#glass onion #benoit blanc #miles bron #helen brand #birdie jay #whiskey #peg #claire debella #rian johnson #knives out #detective blanc #unreality #imagine the chaos of something similar to glass onion happening #it would have been a highlight of 2020 no one would forget the billionaire that killed someone and the destroyed the Mona Lisa #and was so bad at the murder he threw a party about it #glass onion spoilers

[nunalastor]

For the Detective Au: what does the detective look like? I want to draw him, but I don’t have a clear view of what he looks like. Thoughts?

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #alastor #serial roommates #i'm not gonna lie i've been imagining benoit blanc this whole time #because of the southern accent

[lilyginnyblackv2]

I’m not saying they are exactly the same, but...

Hugh Grants’ character in Glass Onion: Malewife, Cooks and Bakes

Kazuki Kurusu in Buddy Daddies: Malewife, Cooks and Bakes

Benoit Blanc in Glass Onion: Living in a Bathtub

Rei Suwa in Buddy Daddies: Sleeping in a Bathub

There are some similarities here!

#Buddy Daddies #Glass Onion #KazuRei #Hugh Grant #Benoit Blanc #Kazuki Kurusu #Rei Suwa #could you imagine #them meeting though #lmao #image heavy post

[starryevermore]

sweet memories ✧ benoit blanc

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Either 3 separate ideas or all together into one: (for Knives out/Glass onion. Any character but probs best for detective Blanc)

● Getting drunk/tipsy and reminiscing their time in their training 

● Blanc (?) and reader on a case and one of them gets severely hurt and it’s a choice of whether they continue to chase suspect or help the other 

● one of them trying to re-enact what theoretically could have happened on a case, person b paying no attention to this, and suddenly person A is in front of them trying different death methods. Someone walking in and being horrified. Person B saying sorry, person A saying it’s normal. - anon

pairing: benoit blanc x male!reader

summary: you and benoit reminisce on your relationship. 

word count: 1,613

warnings?: minor spoilers for glass onion, maybe slightly out of character benoit, established relationship, fluff, gunshot wound, mention of murder, not proofread

Benoit Blanc had not changed much since you had last seen him, you mused. Still had his beautiful, piercing blue eyes. Still had a brain that run a million miles a minute. Still managed to impress you with every single thing he does. It was almost unfair, how perfect the man sitting across from you was. At least he had one fault that you knew of. At least you could still pull out the fact that you’ve beat him at every single game of Clue you played against him. He always hated when you did that, arguing that he wasn’t good at dumb games so it wasn’t fair to keep holding that over his head. But with that sparkling twinkle in his eyes, you knew he didn’t really mean it. Benoit was a teasing man—around you, at least. To the rest of the world, he was the world’s greatest detective. But to you, he was ole Benny, an awkward fella who was a far shout from the greatest at anything. 

“Ain’t seen you in a while,” he said, looking at you over the rim of his glass as he took a long sip of his drink. He set the glass down, smacking his lips. “You solve any good mysteries lately?”

“Nothing as great as you,” you said. “I mean, showing the world that Miles Brown is a complete nitwit? You’re really taking that whole eat-the-rich thing to heart.”

Benoit waved you off, shaking his head. “It was dumber than a game of Clue. Man didn’t even have the ability to come up with an original murder. Stole all his ideas from everyone.”

“Well, look on the bright side. At least you finally won a game of Clue,” you teased, leaning forward, resting your elbows on the table. “Never thought I’d see the day. Someone should put that in the history books, you know. Benoit Blanc: World’s Greatest Detective, Bested by Clue Except for that One Time.”

“That’s a terrible title for a book. Nobody’d pick it up.”

“I would.”

“Probably ‘cause you’d be the one writin’ it.”

You hummed, taking a sip of your drink. “Someone’s gotta expose you as the dork you truly are. Everyone acts like you’re some James Bond type o’ figure. They deserve to know you’re more of…I don’t know. Who’s the silliest character you can think of?”

Benoit hummed. “Clark Kent?”

“I said silliest character, not the character you’ve got the hots for!” you laughed. 

“Oh, come on! The whole glasses disguise? Seriously? No one ever thought, hey this guy looks kinda sorta similar to Superman? I refuse to believe that!”

“Not everyone is as brilliant as you, Benny boy,” you said. You took another sip of your drink. “God, I hate Superman. Remember that one time, when we were working a case together? The jewelry heist case?”

Benoit’s face turned red. He probably didn’t like thinking of that case very much. You couldn’t blame him, if you were being honest. You didn’t like to think of it, either. “You know I could never forget that case.”

“All I really remember of it is bein’ in the hospital. They had stupid Superman movie playing all the time. Man of Steel, or somethin’? I used to like it before, but god, a guy can only watch that shit so many times before it gets annoyin’. I swear, if I see Henry Cavill put on that super suit again, it’d be too soon.”

“I’d prefer to remember it as the day I realized I love you,” Benoit said. 

You let out a laugh. “What, it took me being on my death bed to realize you loved me?”

It had been a complete and utter disaster. It wasn’t often that you and Benoit worked together on a case. But this was a tough nut to crack, so Benoit invited you along, telling the client that if she wanted the case to be solved, it was imperative you be there, too. The client hadn’t really been willing, but recognized she had no real choice in the matter so she bit her tongue. After all, she wanted to make sure she was not the victim in the jewelry heist. 

Things had gone well enough, if you were being honest. After a few false starts and some misleading clues, you and Benoit were close to triumphant. But neither of you could have expected the suspect to have a gun, much less use it. 

He’d been aiming at Benoit. You panicked, your blood running cold. Before you could even think about what you were doing, you jumped and positioned yourself between Benoit and the bullet. It struck you, lodging itself in your side. You screamed as you fell, hitting the floor, hard. 

Pain practically blinded you as you reached up, touching your wound. When you pulled your hand away, it was sticky with blood. You lifted your head, seeing Benoit falling to his knees, his hand covering your wound, applying pressure. You twisted your head the best you could, watching as the suspect ran.

“Go,” you whispered. You couldn’t manage to make your voice any louder. Took too much energy. “You’re gonna lose him. We won’t get another chance like this.”

“I can’t lose you,” Benoit said. 

“I’ll be fine, go get him.”

“Don’t make me leave you,” Benoit whispered, leaning over you, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I love you. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

“It was an emotional moment!” Benoit argued. “It ain’t strange for things to be revealed in times of high stress, you know.”

“I know,” you said. You reached over, grabbing his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I just hate that it took you so long. To think we might have gotten together a lot sooner if I told you I loved you when I realized.”

Benoit let out a laugh so loud it practically shook the walls of the kitchen. “Oh, come on. At least when I realized, it had a sort of morbid romantic edge. Yours was just me being an idiot!”

“Well, I love when you’re an idiot.”

It was the early days in your friendship. You and Benoit had often worked together back then, honing your detective skills, bouncing ideas off each other. It felt less like a job that way. It felt more like playing a game of Clue (despite Benny’s aversion to the game). In any case, it was more fun that way. Plus, it gave you and Benoit a chance to develop some more unconventional methods of solving cases. Which is exactly what you were doing. 

You and Benoit were working out how the victim may have died. You had narrowed down to a few different murder weapons that might have been it, but you and Benoit couldn’t quite figure out how it had happened. So, it was only natural that the two of you ran through some different scenarios in an effort to narrow some the possibilities. 

That was how you ended up straddling Benoit, who laid on his back on the floor, his hands above his head as if he were surrendering. Your breath caught in your throat at the position. You liked it—you like it a lot. But you forced yourself to ignore the thought about what it may be like if you were in this same position with a little less clothes. You had to remain professional. You had to. 

You raised your hand holding the prop knife, acting like you were going to drive it through Benoit’s chest. As you brought it down, the fake blade pushing itself into the handle, you frowned. This didn’t make sense. The victim had been fighting back, and this position didn’t give much opportunity to do it. “No, I don’t think it was like this. Here, trade places with me.”

You lifted yourself off of Benoit and laid on the floor. Benoit straddled you now. Your breath hitched as he reached down, his hands closing around your throat. 

“The victim had injuries on her hands, like someone’d been tryin’ to pry her hands off of ‘em,” Benoit said. 

“When the killer couldn’t do that, they kneed her in the stomach,” you continued, bring your leg up, pressing your knee into Benoit’s stomach. 

“And then—”

The door opened. There was a shout. Benoit lifted his head, his face tinted red as he looked at the person who walked inside. 

“Oh, god!” the person said. It was your client. Fuck. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean t-to see anything!”

“Oh, it’s not like that!” Benoit said. “We’re just tryin’ to act out the murder!”

You cleared your throat, trying to twist your head to look at her. “Totally normal. All the professionals do it.”

“I-I’ll leave you it then…”

She left as quick as she came, shutting the door behind you. As you and Benoit looked at each other again, you felt like your face was burning. 

“Um, so that seems like it was the way it happened…” you mumbled. 

“Right, right,” Benoit said, getting off of you. “Uh, with that done, we should start narrowing down the suspects, then.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just give me a moment and I’ll be ready.”

Because, holy fuck, how could you be in a position like this and just expect to continue on as normal? 

“If you love your idiot so much then, how ‘bout you join me in the bath, then?” Benoit asked. “Gets a bit lonely in there, you know.”

Your snorted. “Fine. But we’re not staying there for a week, alright?”

“I’m sure I could convince you otherwise.”

“We’ll see.”

Oh, how you loved your silly little detective. 

#benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc x male!reader #benoit blanc x you #benoit blanc x y/n #benoit blanc fic #benoit blanc fanfiction #benoit blanc fan fiction #benoit blanc fanfic #benoit blanc fan fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 9

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Benoit Blanc x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Fingering; rimming; oral sex; anal sex; unprotected sex

He seems surprised that you suggest it. You know you’ve caught him off-guard, and you feel yourself heating with nerves and embarrassment. You start leaning away from him just a bit, and that seems to snap him back into action. He reassures you, tells you that of course he wants to try it, and of course he wants to try it with you. But he’s said so a touch too late, and the mortification is still washing over you in waves. 

Benoit just tuts softly, gathering you into his arms and steering the two of you back against the headboard. He gives you a moment, just strokes gently over your arm. 

“...May I ask what brought this on?” He finally murmurs.

You shrug a little, trailing your finger over his chest. 

“I was just…I mean…I’ve always been sort of…Curious.” 

Benoit gives a soft, encouraging hum to urge you on, and you flounder: 

“I mean, I just…” 

“I did not mean to put you on the spot,” Benoit gives your arm a comforting squeeze, then presses a tender kiss to your forehead. 

“And I didn’t mean to just—Blurt it out like that, but I panicked. I mean, I was always told that it was…You know. Filthy.” 

“Only if you want it to be, my dear.” 

Your nerves swell with a giggle, and you turn your head into Benoit’s shoulder, grinning as he chuckles and holds you more tightly. 

--  

“Do not give me that look,” He warns. You give it to him regardless, fixing him with a pout that only works now and again, when he feels like indulging you. He doesn’t seem in the mood to just now. 

“But Benoit,” You whine, petulantly kicking a foot, “I told you I wanted to try it.” 

“And I told you that we are going to take our time with this.” 

He had. He’d told you time and time again in your last few dalliances that he would ease you into it. It had only made you more hot for the idea—wondering how often your prim and proper gentleman sleuth had indulged in this before, and with whom. 

Now, Benoit fixes you with as stern a look as he seemed able to muster. He smooths his hands up your inner thighs before he nods a touch to the left. 

“Roll over.” 

Your stomach swirls at the command, and you hurry to comply. You fold your arms, resting your chin on them. You fight the urge to squirm or fidget; your fingers flex into your sweating palms. You feel the bed dip behind you, and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Relex,” He murmurs, giving your tense calves a squeeze and a pat. Then, “Kneel up.”

You do, pushing yourself up and shifting to widen your stance as Benoit’s hands urge. You bite your lip, eyeing the headboard as you wait…And wait…

The first brush of Benoit’s breath against your cunt makes you jolt in surprise. He slides his hand over your outer thigh, steadying you before he leans in closer. He noses along your lips gently before his tongue flickers out. You shiver, head falling forward. You rock back against the welcome and familiar sensation of his tongue along your wetting pussy. You bite your lip as you felt Benoit smooths his palm over your ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze. You give a little wiggle of your hips, and grin when you feel him chuckle. It's another moment before you feel both of Benoit’s hands on your behind. He gives another squeeze, then trails his finger along the curve. 

You shiver as you felt Benoit part your cheeks ever so slightly. He draws back from your pussy, and you're almost certain that he's going to look you over, but—

Your jaw drops at the slick, warm feeling of his questing tongue along your rim. Your moan stalls in your throat before finally choking out in two broken halves. Benoit’s hands smooth around your waist, steadying you as your hips stutter in their movement. There’s a part of you that wants to squirm forward, and another that wants to grind back. He hums, giving another swiping lap. He slides a hand beneath you, smoothing his finger over your clit in easy circles. His tongue tracks the same movement, alternating, sliding, and tapping as his fingers do. 

You lower your head to the blanket as Benoit leans away. He smooths his fingertip over the puckered flesh, pressing in gentle, slow circles. 

“Relax,” He murmurs. It practically vibrates against your skin. You nod. You try—but your body begins to clam up. You feel Benoit lean back a touch, a soft, contemplative sigh pushing out of his nose. You plan to tell him to just give you a second, you can handle it. But then Benoit eases a finger into your sopping cunt. You’re so caught up in the sensation that you press into it—and into the slicked, teasing finger sliding into your ass. 

You gasp shrilly, toes curling. Benoit holds still for a moment, resting his chin on your plump behind. 

“...How are you feeling?” He urges after a moment. You swallowed thickly, searching for the words. It’s new, and different, but it’s not unwelcome. Benoit doesn’t press you for an answer. He just holds still, and waits. 

“I’m…” You manage slowly. You swallow thickly, then press—“Move your finger?” 

“In? Out?” 

“And then in and out again.” 

Benoit chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he leans back just a little bit. 

“If you can still sass me, then you must be feelin’ just fine.” 

Benoit eases both fingers in a touch more deeply, then out again. The sensation trips up your spine, making your shoulders wiggle, your fingers curling in the sheets. 

“Gimme another one,” You mumble. Benoit tuts softly.

“What did I tell you about taking our time?” 

–

Benoit does take his time. That session is the first of many. He spreads you out, easing you into the feeling with his tongue before stretching you. He’s always gentle with you when he does. He doesn’t rush you through any motion or another. 

That’s what makes this so easy. 

Benoit smooths his hands along the backs of your thighs, giving them a squeeze as he pushes them wide. You peer up at Benoit through hazy eyes. You’re stretched and aching.

Unable to resist temptation, you'd spent the afternoon in bed, playing with your ass. It had been a shock to you both when Benoit had walked into your room as you'd eased a dildo in and out of the puckered hole. Well, he’s also been a quick thinker, but it was still a surprise when he’d offered, “Do you want that, or the real thing?”

You’d spent the next twenty minutes moaning and gagging and choking on his cock, getting him hard and wet for the real thing. 

“I wish you would’ve said somethin’, darlin’,” He’d tutted, smoothing his hand over your hair as you’d reared back, coughing roughly from gagging, “I would’ve come home sooner.” 

Now, he turns his head, pressing a sweet kiss to your ankle, and smiling as you huff out a fluttery little laugh. 

“Are you comfortable?” He murmurs. You nod a little, biting your lip as Benoit’s cockhead brushes the back of your thigh. 

“I’d ask if you’re stretched enough, but from what I saw, you stretched plenty,” He teases. He takes his cock in hand, guiding it gently along the crack. You slide your hands down, parting your cheeks for him. He hums in quiet approval before he taps the head more firmly. 

“Take a deep breath for me now,” He urges, “And just relax.” 

You do, licking your lips. You lean into the pressure of Benoit’s cock, shuddering as your body accepts him. He groans, resting his hands on your inner thighs. As he always has, he takes his time easing deeper. You try to keep your eyes on his, to nod, to assure him that you’re alright, but you just can’t. As Benoit presses the rest of his thick cock into you, you close your eyes, your mouth falling open as you tip your head back into the pillow. You’d managed to get the dildo just as deep a few times, but it hadn’t felt anywhere near as good as this. 

“There we go,” Benoit soothed, smoothing his hands over your trembling thighs. “That’s what you needed, isn’t it.” 

You nod, unable to close your mouth or open your eyes as the sensation washes over you fully. 

“Benoit,” You whimper, “It’s so—Oh, god.” 

“So what?” Benoit plies, “Is it too much?” 

You hurriedly shake your hand, hands shooting out to grasp his forearms, wary of him pulling away. 

“It’s so good—I feel so full, Benny, I—” You grit out, “Move? Please?” 

Benoit smiles, curling over you. It shifts him into your more deeply, in a way that you didn’t think was possible. You suck in a shaky breath, your hole twitching around him. You wrap your arms around Benoit’s shoulders, your legs around his waist.

“Is this how you thought it would be? Hmm?” He murmurs,  brushing his lips against your jaw as he begins to slowly roll his hips. “When you asked?” 

“No,” You whisper, “It’s better.” 

“What was it you were always told this was? Filthy?” 

“F-filthy.” 

“That’s right,” Benoit tips his head up, taking your earlobe between his teeth and giving it a tug. 

“Well, my dear,” He murmurs, so sweet and so close that you swear it makes your brain rattle, “Allow me to show you just how filthy it can be.”

Tag list: @leaveinthelurk ; @missredherring ; @fangirlfreakingout ; @stevie25 ; @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @karie-me-home ; @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly ; @guyfieriii (tried to tag and it won’t let me D: ) ; @moonlightburned ; @amneris21 ; @shiftingsands14 ; @cloudohell ; @blueeyesatnight ; @inlovewithhisblueeyes ; @reaperofmen ; @winchestershiresauce

#Benoit Blanc x Reader #Benoit Blanc x You #Benoit Blanc/Reader #Benoit Blanc/You #Benoit Blanc imagine #Benoit Blanc fic #Kinktober 2022 #Kinktober #Youvebeenlivingfictional Kinktober 2022

[pickledpascal]

The Missing Link

Chapter Four: Hindenburg

Warnings: Panic attack, Miles Bron is closeted (?), some swearing.

Word Count: 7.4k

The Missing Link Masterlist

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Out of all the people Detective Blanc expected to arrive at the dock earlier that day, Ezra Wayne and his daughter were not one of them. Birdie Jay, why wouldn't he? She was the problematic fashionista who was clinging onto relevancy by trying to come up with something new and revolutionary every few years. Duke Cody was a men's rights activist, pleading for his audience to trust everything he said. And they did, not thinking to make at least one Google search to check if he was telling the truth or not. Claire Debella and Lionel Toussaint were similar in that much of their money to do their work was provided by Miles, in turn they'd basically support everything he did.

Ezra Wayne was the outlier. 

Why would he come all the way to Greece to meet an old friend who he was very vocal about not liking anymore? He didn't owe anything to Miles as far as Blanc knew. Ezra started his acting career from nothing. No help or reassurance was given to him by any of his past friends.

He knew this because of some of the interviews he'd seen. It was safe to say Benoit was a fan. Who wouldn't think the tall, dark, and handsome man wasn't the best looking in all of Hollywood anyway? He was also a great actor too, starring in anything from a silly rom com to the scariest of horror movies. Blanc liked versatility in his men.

Seeing Ezra in person was certainly something. His gray's were much more prominent than in the movies, showing his age. Maybe he hadn't gotten around to re-dyeing it yet. Then there was the part where Birdie deadnamed him. Ezra didn't seem that bothered, just annoyed. 

When he got his chance, Blanc smiled kindly as Ezra turned to him. "I must say, I absolutely love your films! I've seen almost all of 'em, you're amazin' in every single one." He was nervous but he needed to get that out as he looked Ezra up and down. It felt like he was a teenager again, talking to the most attractive boy at school. Ezra always looked absolutely beautiful on screen but it didn't compare to seeing him in real life.

Once on the boat, Benoit wanted to get an inkling to each person's personality. It just so happened that he was walking into the boat to talk with Lionel when Elle waved him over. It was hard to say no, especially with such a beautiful man in the room. But nerves, they were never something Benoit got over easily. He was a relatively calm person, even after the sheer amount of dangerous cases he's been through that would send any sane person running. Who takes on the mysterious case of the death of the mystery novel writer? Apparently, Benoit Blanc does. When Benoit did get nervous, though, they didn't leave as swiftly as he would hope.

After all, meeting your celebrity crush and escaping a near death experience are two completely different things. Although, they might meet on this isolated island.

Conversation with the father-daughter duo was certainly interesting and insinuated something Benoit wasn’t sure he wanted to admit. As much as he wanted to focus on the matter at hand, it was hard with someone as determined as Elle to make both himself and Ezra a blubbering mess. 

Benoit pursed his lips, he might as well use this time to try and eliminate Ezra from his suspect list. Or try to. “Y’know, Ezra, you and your daughter seem to be out of place among all these…. Eccentric personalities. For an actor, it’s strange of me to admit such a thing.” It was peculiar that Ezra was here. If he wasn’t the murderer–which would be horrible for Benoit–-then why was he here?

“I like to think it’s because I grew up poor and didn’t compromise myself or leech off of others in order to get rich and famous.” The brunette explained with a hum. Benoit nodded at Ezra and looked down at his hands.

The others happened to grow up in middle class families, besides Birdie–she was the daughter of a famous model, making her famous even before she was born. And Lionel, a little different too. He intimately worked with Miles, being employed by him for the sake of doing what he always wanted to do. Only for the sake of science of course. 

—------

Now, Benoit did not know of Ezra before his transition but the actor was always open about that time, sharing photos of himself and even his deadname but Benoit didn’t think it was that difficult to call Ezra by the name he goes by now. Apparently it was very hard for Miles. 

“Liz-Ezra…. You look amazing. Great, actually. I’m glad you’re here.” Miles’ eyebrows furrowed as he corrected himself. Benoit observed him as he walked the length of the glass dock. It seemed Miles was blushing a little but it didn’t look like embarrassment.

Huh, interesting…. Oh.

Oh.

Well, it’s reassuring that Benoit isn’t the only one attracted to Ezra. He glanced at Helen who stared at Miles. His main objective was to get her some answers, he needed to focus on that. If he happened to get a boyfriend out of this case, well, that would be nice. Benoit closed his eyes for a moment to get his head in the right mindset, fixing his sunglasses.

“Can we just take a second and fully inbreathiate this moment together?” Miles said with a gentle smile. Benoit pursed his lips and cocked his eyebrow, he ignored it but something inside him was saying that he needed to remember that for later.

Benoit was quiet as the tour started, mostly hanging around Helen to give her some semblance of comfort. Someone here killed her sister so he didn’t blame her if she was tense and weary of everyone, even if some of them seemed too dense to commit a murder. 

“Get settled in! Change. Let’s meet up at the pool.” Miles told everyone with a happy smile. “We’ll have a chill afternoon and then the game begins!” He announced, letting everyone fiddle with the bracelets around their wrists to find their room. As expected, Miles requested Benoit come with him for a private chat.

—-------

The pool seemed to be calmer but that meant it was time for Benoit to start gathering some information, among other things. He looked around the rectangular pool, catching sight of Birdie and Claire on the pool chairs off to the side while Miles was playing a tune on the guitar. He made his way over the Miles and grabbed one of the drinks inside the cooler. 

“Oh! Baby Blue!” Benoit exclaimed, a light smile on his face as he twisted the cap open and took a drink. His nose wrinkled slightly at the taste. It was like Jared Leto somehow bottled how he smelled. Benoit had never met him before but that’s what he imagined he’d smell like.

Duke took a sip of his drink, “Yeah. Miles, you remember when you almost pancaked me outside Andi’s–”

“Anderson Cooper’s birthday party? Yeah, Coop's parties are memorable.” Miles laughed with an almost nervous smile as he grabbed a bottle as well.

Benoit stood from his crouching position and looked over at Ezra and Elle. They were talking with each other. No one seemed to want to talk to them. Peculiar, with such a close-knit group like this. He made his way over to the pair and sat at the other pool chair next to Ezra. “Have you always been…. The outcast in a group like this?” He asked, careful but still blunt.

“Eh, kinda.” Ezra lowered his sunglasses so they covered his eyes, the sides of his lips were tense. “I was the only one who wanted a job in the performing arts and then I told them I was also trangender, kinda put the nail in the coffin.”

“Hmm.” Benoit nodded, catching a glimpse of the scars ever so slightly showing from underneath the half-open shirt on Ezra’s shoulders. “You look…. Great.” He said with a light smile, knowing his face must be some shade of red. He assumed crimson. It didn’t take the detective much to get him a blushing mess. It just depended on the person and if they had the means to.

Ezra let out a small laugh at the compliment. “Thanks, Detective. I could say the same for you.” Benoit bit the inside of his cheek. Was he flirting with him? Holy shit. “I mean, I would be very proud of myself if I was the most attractive detective alive.” Ezra shrugged.

Benoit let out a flattered laugh, feeling as if he was a boy again. “Some might say you’re the most attractive actor alive.” It was weak, but it was all he could come up with. It was like his brain was short-circuiting. Only for a second.

—------

After the little stunt at the pool, Helen and Benoit met in the gym as it seemed no one was using it or was going to use it in the short time they were there. Of course, that led to Benoit snooping around the compound to eventually find Duke watching Miles and Whiskey…. Doing their thing in front of a window. Honestly, though, how could Miles not see Duke. Weird. 

Helen got a little closer, wanting to hear what the pair was talking about behind the glass. Benoit pursed his lips, shaking his head at her. She was good but damn if she got caught, that'd be the end of their investigation.

—------

"My mom took me to Paris when I was six years old. First time I looked at this lady, it changed my life. You know Da Vinci invented a technique for brush strokes that leave no lines?" Miles gushed over the real Mona Lisa, the one in songs and meant to be the museum of art in France. Guess not these days. "That's how you can look straight at her and her expression changes every time. Her smile's there, then it disappears. Is she happy? Is she sad? Is it something else?"

Benoit never was one to be interested in art, at least not high art like the Mona Lisa or any of Goya's paintings. He appreciated it, sure, just not one to dedicate his whole life to caring about them. It seemed Ezra was similar in that aspect, taking a sip from his glass with an unbothered look in his eyes. 

Helen kept staring at the painting, nodding. "It really is something." Benoit glanced up at the painting before he looked back at Miles.

Claire looked from Miles to the painting and narrowed her eyes. "Wait a minute, Miles. Why do you have the Mona Lisa in your living room?" Her tone was pointed, like she knew something the rest didn't. Or, that Claire knew Miles was gonna do something she didn't like.

Miles let out a breath, a cocky smile appearing on his lips. "In one week, I've invited world leaders and members of the press from all over to unveil the future." He said as he grabbed a crystal-like object from his pocket and showed it to everyone in the room. Most looked confused…. But Claire and Lionel…. "You know what this is?"

"You know damn well we do." Lionel gritted out, tapping at the lip of his glass. "What's going on, Miles?" 

Benoit raised his hand, letting out a strained laugh. "Uh, I don't." It seemed, neither did Ezra or his daughter who's attention was peaked at the crystallic object. They seemed to have felt the rise of tension in the room.

"Don't drop it." Miles threw it at Benoit who caught it with ease.

But Claire, she was concerned. "Oh my god!" Perhaps something would have happened if the little crystal touched the floor. They were all in trouble, then. 

Benoit looked at the crystal between his fingers, carefully staring at the grooves and small bubbles that seemed to be trapped inside.

"That's a new solid hydrogen fuel. It's incredibly powerful." Miles explained, "It's radically efficient. Zero carbon emissions, and it's derived from abundant seawater. I call it Klear, with a K." Because of course he did. "And at this event, we are going to announce 'Klear America.' Our affordable home power solution. Klear is going to be powering people's dreams, all over this country, by the end of this year."

Ezra shook his head, he may not have been a chemist or anything that had to do with the sciences but the looks Claire and Lionel had on their faces weren't hard to read. They were concerned, devastated even. 

Lionel slammed his glass down on one of the podiums, causing the glass on the Mona Lisa to lift back up. It was protecting itself, from what? It didn't know just yet. "No. No. Because I was clear with you. I told you I need two years minimum to test this stuff to see if it's safe or even viable. Claire and I are not gonna be responsible for putting something out in the world before it is tested. And–" He paused once Miles pointed up at the air around them.

"Shit." Ezra breathed. So much for being safe on this summer vacation. They were walking around in a ticking time bomb….

"Oh, no." Lionel realized as well, stepping back from Miles.

Miles nodded with a smirk, "Oh, yeah."

Benoit's eyebrows furrowed as he looked back at the small crystal in his hand. "You're running this entire place off this?"

"The whole Glass Onion is powered by Klear." Miles let out a light laugh. He was giddy, his dreamlike fuel was working. As far as he knew. "Come on, let's…. Let's eat!"

It was clear that both Lionel and Claire weren't sure they could trust Miles anymore. He was being reckless. More reckless than he usually was. Elle narrowed her eyes at Miles before she looked at Ezra who let out a light breath. Maybe they could get through this night and leave as soon as possible in the morning. Ezra didn't want to stay too much longer if the whole island was dangerous and he also didn't want to feel responsible if something were to happen to his daughter.

This was a huge mistake.

—----

Dinner was short-lived, Benoit solved Miles' "mystery" in just a few short seconds and Ezra had to refrain from the urge to laugh once he saw his defeated face. The pair went upstairs, leaving Ezra and Elle with everyone else who deemed it was time to get royally hammered after their weekend was ruined. 

Duke's notifications went off, causing the glass vault to go back up. "You know, you could just power it down." Lionel suggested to Duke. 

"Ah, it's my Google Alerts. Got them for all you guys." Duke explained, taking a sip from his glass. "Whiskey, sports I like, general interests."

Ezra rubbed Elle's back while she leaned on him. She was tired even though it was only 8:30 but he couldn't blame her. The whole day was filled with…. things out of the ordinary. Plus she found another father figure and half her time was spent getting him and Ezra together. Well, Elle's work seemed to be done. They may never see each other again after Ezra leaves tomorrow. It was sad, thinking about the future and the fact that each time Elle would look at a magazine with Benoit's solved cases on the front cover, she would ache for something that could have been.

Lionel was unimpressed as Duke's phone rang yet again. "You have a Google Alert for the word 'movie?'"

"I like movies!" Duke defended. "Don't hate. Nerd." Says the guy who started off on Twitch as a gamer. 

Ezra took a sip of his drink, looked at the red table in front of him. His eyes glazed over as he thought about what may happen after this. He'd be glad to go home, back to his normal life. Which was weird to think that being an actor everyone sought over was normal. But it was for him. Though, Elle knew differently. He longed for someone to be with, and if that someone just so happened to be Benoit Blanc…. Well, wouldn't that be nice?

Birdie let out a relieved sigh as she sat down on the couch, "Thank God for Benoit Blanc. We don't have to spend the weekend spelling hedges." She sipped her drink through her straw.

"Well, I'm outta her. Tomorrow morning. Gone." Duke stated, waving his hand.

Whiskey shook her head, "We just got here." She was on the floor. Ezra wasn't sure why or how she got there and he didn't really care either.

Duke mockingly whined like a baby. Elle's gaze hardened at him, she could treat Whiskey much better than him. If only she could let him go and leave him, Duke didn't deserve her. Not to mention, Duke was at least twenty years older than Whiskey. "You can stay. Have fun."

"Fine. You're murdering my vibe." Whiskey grabbed the bottle of tequila next to her and stood up, walking outside.

Birdie whined, "No! Miserable in paradise. We've all earned this."

Andi walked towards the group, "Yes, you have." She seemed more tense than before. Perhaps she was gonna blow up again.

Ezra helped Elle stand from her place on the couch and retreated outside with her by his side. He didn't want to hear whatever argument that was going to happen. It would have been entertaining but Ezra's brain was close to shutting off. And if Elle was anything like her father, he knew it was the same for her.

Soon, Andi was leaving too. She stopped to say a few words to Whiskey then made her way to Ezra. 

"You-you are the only good one. And I don't blame you for leaving all those years ago." She said before running off. 

Ezra cocked his head somewhat confused while Elle looked off into the distance, admiring how the moonlight danced with the water. Whatever happened in there, must've been enough to set her off. Not that Ezra blamed Andi at all. After everything that's happened between her and Miles and suddenly she's cut out of the company. Ezra didn't know many details about why but he assumed it was because of something big…. 

His eyes widened, shaking his head a little. He was being dumb. It was because of that Klear stuff, wasn't it? Andi knew it was dangerous and didn't want Miles to be distributing across the entire country. No wonder….

—-----

Well, they certainly picked the wrong time to make their way back inside. Duke looked as if he was choking, falling down on one of the coffee tables until his harbored breaths were silenced. He died. Right in front of their eyes. Ezra immediately shielded Elle's eyes, holding her tight to his chest while Benoit inspected his body. 

"I'm afraid Mr. Cody is…. Is dead." Benoit said as he looked up at Claire. There was a certain sense of bewilderment in his eyes. He's seen plenty of deaths before, it was a part of his job, but none quite like Duke's.

Birdie started to scream while Whiskey cried, "No, Duke! No!" 

The rest of the conversation seemed to buzz in Ezra's ears. Someone killed Duke. That much was obvious. The question was who? And, well, there were only a select few on the island.

"Fuck." Ezra cursed under his breath, loosening his grip on Elle. "We have to get the fuck out of here." He ran a hand through his hair.

Sure, Claire could see the headlines but Ezra could see them too. He was an actor, a transgender one at that so criticism was something he was used to. But this…. This would be a whole new level. Ezra hated red-pill "truthers," so being on an island with one who just so happened to die would automatically blacklist him. Progressives in Hollywood wouldn't cast him anymore and the conservatives didn't cast him at all because he was trans. 

"My dear, hey, you're gonna be alright." Benoit told Elle softly, wrapping his arms around her for a moment while she sniffled softly.

Even if Duke was an asshole and a bitch, witnessing his death wasn't something Elle was particularly fond of. Sure, he might have deserved it with the harm he caused on little boys minds but…. This…. This was different. It would haunt Elle for the rest of her life, she was sure. 

"Boat can't come till low tide in the morning. Six am at the earliest." Lionel announced as he walked back.

Benoit patted Elle's shoulder for a moment before he looked at Lionel. "Do they understand the situation?" He asked with a frown.

"There is no other landing point, and Miles' dumbass Banksy dock was set to low-tide height and it isn't buoyant. It is a piece of shit." Lionel explained, tone very reasonably pointed at the man who decided to have said dock. 

Ezra wrapped a blanket around Elle's shoulders, knowing that sometimes she needed the weight to feel normal again. This certainly wouldn't help all the things going on inside her brain. And, holy shit, was Miles saying someone was trying to kill him and not Duke? Well, then they royally fucked up. Poison in the person's drink was rather cliché wasn't it? And clumsy because shit like this could happen. You could mix up the drinks and accidentally have given it to the wrong person. 

Hm, maybe Ezra could be the new Harlan Thrombey…. Without all the parts of suicide and…. Well, Benoit Blanc appeared in Ezra's life too. Maybe that was a sign.

"Forget about his phone. Look." Lionel pointed at Duke's holster…. Which was missing the gun. The gun that Duke was famous for always keeping with him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…." Ezra ran a hand through his hair, squeezing Elle's shoulder to comfort her. Now someone was roaming around the island with a goddamned gun. So much for a little light hearted fun. 

Elle shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't believe this is happening." Her lungs were screaming for air, her esophagus closing up. "D-Dad…." She said weakly. She could feel her heartbeat going faster and faster. She couldn't breathe. 

She was having a panic attack.

Ezra's eyes widened. He knew these signs. He didn't care about what was happening behind him, he needed to focus on his daughter. "I'm right here, Elle, c'mon look at me, okay?" He tilted Elle's head towards him as he wrapped his arms around her. "Take a few big breaths, honey. I'm here for you, whatever you need, okay?" Ezra squeezed her tight, not missing the concerned look Benoit had for her. But it was like he knew Ezra would help her through it. 

"Blanc, you have to help me. Help me! Help me!" Miles yelled right before Benoit slapped him across the face.

Benoit shouted, "What happens at ten o'clock!" 

As soon as those words left his mouth, all the lights powered down. They were showered in darkness, the only light that didn't turn off was the lighthouse just outside. It rotated, causing only a sliver of light to run through the house. 

Against Benoit's wishes, no one stayed in the living room. Well, besides Elle and Ezra. Weirdly, the light seemed to help Elle out of her panic attack. Her heart was still beating fast but she could breathe again which helped marginally.

"Alright, that's good, sweetheart." Ezra said calmly, cupping her cheek softly as he wrapped a blanket around her. "I'll grab you some water, okay. Stay here." Turning on the flashlight from his phone, he found his way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass to fill it with water. Once he was back in the living room, Elle took it gratefully and downed it. Her throat was feeling better, less dry than before. "There we go." Ezra kissed the top of her head. "I love you, kiddo."

Elle buried her face in Ezra's chest, letting a few tears flow. "I love you too, Dad. So much."

—-----

"Who?" Claire asked, that's the thing all of them were thinking but it seemed only Benoit had the answers.

Benoit, looking off to the side for a moment, smacked his lips. "Well, I keep returning, in my mind, to the Glass Onion." Ezra cocked an eyebrow at him. He's heard of the weird ways Benoit had explained the truth of a case but…. What did the Glass Onion have to do with any of this? "Something that seems densely layered, mysterious and inscrutable. But in fact, the center is in plain sight. And that is why this case has confounded me like no other." Benoit gently rubbed Elle's arm before walking the length of the living room.

"Why, every complex layer peeled back has revealed another layer and another layer and come to naught." Benoit looked around at the room, at the different people standing in front of him as his eyes narrowed momentarily. "And that was the problem, right there. You see, I expected complexity. I expected intelligence. I expected a puzzle, a game." Where was he going with this? Ezra kept Elle close, not knowing if they were in a room with a murderer or not. "But that's not what any of this is. It hides. Not behind complexity, but behind mind-numbing obvious clarity. Truth is, it doesn't hide at all."

Ezra looked around the room. Who would be the most obvious choice to murder both Andi and Duke? He could think of many reasons why all of them would want to kill Andi but Duke? He was dumb, he had no ill intentions. At least, not to them. To the greater public? Probably. 

"I was staring right at it." Benoit sighed, feeling somewhat dumb for not assuming it at first. "The killer nearly struck my Achilles' heel. But thank high heaven, at the last moment, I realized what had teased my brain through this entire case… "inbreathiate." It's not a word." Benoit shook his head, glancing at Ezra for a moment. 

It seemed obvious he would start to catch on out of all of them. Not to say that Whiskey wasn't smart or the rest weren't but they all believed Miles and how "smart" he portrays himself to be. Ezra, on the other hand, does not. 

Lionel shook his head for a second, not getting how this related to anything. "What?" 

"'Inbreathiate.'" Ezra repeated. "It's not a real word, it just sounds like one but it's…. Made up. Like something a kid would say to sound smart." He explained, blinking a little as the pieces started to fall into place. 

"Precisely." Benoit nodded, "And "reclamation," that is a word. But it's the wrong word." His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, sighing. "This entire day… A veritable minefield of malapropisms and factual errors." Now, Ezra would be lying if he said he knew any of the words Benoit used in that single sentence but he was sure the detective was using them correctly. After all, Benoit had this way of speaking that felt like he would be more at home in the 40s or 50s if he should ever set foot in that time period.

Benoit turned and pointed out the window. "That is the Aegean Sea." Right…. Miles said the Ionian Sea. But if what Benoit was starting to say was true then… It was Miles all along. But he couldn't, right? Miles was too dumb to pull off a murder. 

"Oh, yeah. It is, it is." Claire said, not understanding what Benoit was trying to explain.

"His dick doesn't float. His wonder-fuel is a disaster. His grasp of disruption theory is remedial at best." Aw, and just when Ezra was going to turn to the dark side. Yeah…. No. "He didn't design the puzzle boxes. He didn't write the mystery. Et voilà. It all adds up. The key to this entire case. And it was staring at me right in the face." Benoit then clarified, clicking his tongue as turned back the group. "Like everyone in the world, I assumed Miles Bron was a complicated genius."

Ezra chuckled, shaking his head. "First mistake, Detective." He shrugged. Miles couldn't come up with his own idea if it saved a million lives. 

Ezra knew that and he warned Andi against partnering with Miles… but she didn't listen. And that's why he left. Sure, the transphobia was part of it but he couldn't bear to watch Andi throw away all her ideas and let Miles get all the credit. Alpha was hers, never Miles'. He just so happened to run into Andi and she took him along for the ride. 

Benoit glanced at Ezra, a slightly amused look in his eye. "Look into the clear center of this Glass Onion… Miles Bron is an idiot."

Whiskey covered her lips, a little shocked Benoit would say such a thing. Miles' jaw tensed, "Oh, please." He grumbled, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. "Just tell us who tried to kill me."

"No one tried to kill you, you vainglorious buffoon." Benoit countered, shoving his hands in his pockets. If Miles was the murderer, Benoit certainly did not seem scared when he insulted him to his face.

Miles exclaimed, growing frustrated and not in the way that would make him seem innocent. "Duke took my glass!" He wouldn't make a great actor, Ezra could see all his tells easily.

Keeping his composure, Benoit looked at Miles unpressed. "That's what you told us he did. He must've picked it up by mistake, you told us, right after it happened." Ezra cocked his head slightly as he started to remember. It was right in front of them. Miles couldn't be that dumb? To attempt murder right before their eyes. "Ignore his lies, everyone, and think clearly now! What did we all actually see?"

"Y-You handed Duke your own glass. In front of us! And you lied. Made us think you didn't." Ezra said, letting go of Elle once it seemed she was alright. "I must admit I'm not sad that he's dead but…. You traumatized my kid for life.

"Blanc, Ezra… you're telling us Miles killed Duke?" Lionel asked in disbelief. 

Benoit nodded, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because the night Andi sent you all the emails, when Duke got to Andi's house early on his motorcycle he saw Miles leaving. Was almost struck by him." Benoit explained, Ezra wasn't following this time. What email? "In fact, he told all of us. Right in the open, he told us. That night, at Andi's." 

Claire nodded, rubbing her chin slightly. "That night…. Duke told us he almost got in an accident. He… pancaked?" She realized.

"Okay yeah, but Miles had been living in Greece the past six months." Lionel said. He couldn't accept the fact Miles would kill one of their closest friends. Even if Duke was…. Duke.

Benoit let out a light huff, a laugh almost. "No." It was clipped. "Whiskey." He made his way over to her. This piqued Elle's interest, what did all this have to do with her? "Miles saw you on your birthday in New York. Gave you that necklace for your birthday. You're a Taurus." He whispered.

"I am." Whiskey said in a light whisper as well before she realized, "Two weeks ago. May 9th."

Benoit shrugged as Peg ran back into the room. "Forget the hydrofuels, and the sweatshops, and the consensual cuckolding for cable news assignments." Cuckold? God, that had to be the first time he's ever said that for a case. It made Ezra snort out a laugh. 

"Sorry what?" Peg asked, face clear with confusion. 

"And focus! On the envelope." Benoit motioned with his hand to a staircase.

Everyone's heads turned at the staircase to reveal Andi descending from the steps. Birdie let out a shriek, while Claire yelled a few curses. Ezra, on the other hand, was utterly confused.

"Andi?" Lionel asked, appalled.

Ezra looked from Andi to Benoit, "What the fuck is going on?" She was dead not more than two minutes ago when he thought she was dead, the grief was just starting to set in until she came back.

"Who did the envelope threaten?" Benoit didn't expect Ezra to know, maybe he should have explained but it's not like Whiskey really would have known either. "Miles Bron." Almost as if Miles' mom just died in a house fire, his expression became sour and hardened. "That night, Lionel faxed Andi's email to Miles who received it in New York. The one thing that could destroy his empire of lies, the truth in the hands of the only person unafraid to tell it. So Miles drives his Baby Blue Porsche to the scene of the crime, and Andi let's him in." Benoit cocked his head at Miles, eyes narrowed.

Benoit never had any remorse unveiling the truth, especially with cases with such…. Shitheads. "Of course she did. Miles' machine of lawyers and power could destroy her through sheer dumb force. But Miles himself? Oh, she was clever enough not to fear Miles." If this was going where Ezra thought this was going… then who was the woman that looked exactly like Andi? "But she didn't see the real threat, the obvious threat until it was too late. Duke alone knew you were there that night, but he didn't know Andi was dead." 

Ezra ran a hand down his forehead. Wait… Andi had mentioned she had a sister to him, maybe a few times just when families were brought up in conversation. She didn't happen to say her sister was twin but… What else could this be? The actor looked up at the "imposter"—if he could really call her that–and realized. That had to be Helen.

"No, no, he didn't know that until this evening." Benoit continued as he pointed out, "Right here, when he got a Google Alert on his phone, which has now fallen strangely silent." He made his way around Miles and grabbed something from his pocket to reveal that Miles had Duke's phone ever since he died. Ezra was somewhat scared Benoit was feeling him up or something, thankfully it didn't seem Benoit had a kink for villains. "Which he showed to you… because you don't own a phone." 

"Did you really think you could stop all of them from finding out about Andi's death? They all have phones." The blonde made her way towards the group, her southern accent was thick.

"He didn't need to hide the death, he just needed to hide that Duke has shown him the death moments before he was killed." Benoit spun the tail a little further… Well, not so much spinning, more like weaving. Putting the pieces together so they could see the finished product more clearly. "Right out in the open, Duke showed him. And told him exactly what he wanted in return for his silence. So what does Miles do?" The Detective stepped away from the man in question.

The woman followed Benoit, "Does he keep a vial of poison in his tooth or something? Is that some rich person thing?" If it was, Ezra was in trouble. 

Benoit sighed, shaking his head in slight disappointment. "No, no, no, no, it's just… it's so much stupider than that. Birdie, what are the ingredients to your Cuban Breeze?" He asked.

Suddenly the attention was on her and it winded her for a moment. "Um, vodka, amaretto…."

"Oh, God." Whiskey gasped, raising her hands to her mouth as she realized. 

"And… pineapple juice." Birdie finished after a little while.

Benoit strained, slightly disgusted and appalled. "An allergy!" 

"He can't even have a drop." 

"Pineapple juice!" The detective exclaimed in frustration. "He just put pineapple juice in his whiskey! It's so dumb." He shook his head, raising a hand to his forehead to rub at it. It teased his brain in the worst way possible. 

Birdie, probably drunk, gasped in amazement. "It's so dumb, it's brilliant!" 

"No! It's just dumb!" Benoit exclaimed, rubbing a hand against his forehead.

Ezra didn't need to check as he went up to her while the rest went to check their phones, reading off the first article about Cassandra Brand. "You must be Helen Brand…" He said softly.

"You know Helen?" Claire asked. It seemed none of them knew who she was, or they didn't pay much attention when Andi told them about her.

Helen glanced from Claire to Ezra. "We met once. He was in Alabama for some movie and recognized me." She explained, fiddling with the red envelope in her hands as Miles realized… The person he just tried to kill wasn't Andi at all. But an entirely different character all together.

"And now we come to Helen's attempted murder. Which, I have to give you credit for, did have a sound foundation of thought." Benoit said, earning him a glare from Ezra. The actor could see it being a bad habit already, the detective praising a criminal for their creativity just because it tested him enough. But Ezra didn't mind if that was the worst thing about Benoit. "You realized the opportunity laid out in front of you. You have a house on a remote island, filled with desperate people, all of whom have a real-life reason to wish this woman harm. You–" Benoit paused suddenly, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Miles. Something started to become abundantly clear in his mind.

Benoit continued, somewhat weary, "Furthermore, you have a loaded gun conveniently within reach. And the lights had even been turned off." He let out a heavy sigh as he brought a hand to his forehead. "Heavens to…" Ezra didn't want to laugh but the sound escaped him anyways. Benoit may have described Ransom and Harlan in an older case as "drama mamas" but he wasn't exempt from that description either. "You dim-witted, brainless… jackass!" Elle jumped a little as she wrapped the blanket tighter around her form. 

"Your one murder, with any panache at all, and you stole the whole idea from me." It seemed he knew how it felt now. Andi got her ideas stolen by Miles for years, the napkin wasn't the only thing. They all knew that.

Lionel cocked his head, "And after all that, you…. You still kept the envelope? Didn't burn it or anything?" He asked. It could have been seen as a trophy of some sort but if someone–like Helen–were to discover he still had it then his empire would fall. 

"You recognize this?" Helen asked, almost smug as she took the napkin out of its packaging. "Andi's handwritin'. I got you, son of a bitch." Miles almost looked scared. 

Miles shook his head, "Oh, let's slow down there, sister. Okay? Because first, how could you ever prove that that's the original?" He countered. "She might have copied mine."

"No. The bar closed nine years ago, and hers has one thing that yours just doesn't." Helen pointed at something, Ezra couldn't see what since he was standing behind her. However, Ezra was prepared to jump Miles if Helen asked him to. 

Miles hummed, glancing over Helen's shoulder to meet Benoit's eyes. "Okay, but second…." He clicked on his light to set the napkin aflame. 

Benoit and Ezra ran over to Helen. "What the hell did he do?" Benoit exclaimed as he looked at the pile of ash that suddenly formed at Helen's feet. 

"He just burned it!" Helen gasped as Benoit squatted down to see it for himself.

"Burned what? I didn't see anything." Miles shrugged.

Ezra growled, "You are acting worse than a child! And I should know, I have one." Elle pouted, shaking her head. At least Ezra raised her right. Who knows what Miles' parents were like. 

"This will not stand." Benoit ground out, his jaw clenching. 

Miles chuckled, "Uh-huh. Well, did you see this proof, this smoking napkin, Blanc?" He asked with a knowing smile. They had no more evidence. Nothing that could prove Andi's death. "No. Did anybody?" The group casted their gaze downward, defeated and silent. They couldn't go against Miles, he had them in his pocket. "Okay, then wow! Wow! We got some big accusations flying around here. Except, everybody seems to have a very foggy recollection of what they actually saw–"

"Well, I did see you burn something." Ezra countered.

"And there's nothing but totally circumspective evidence." Miles continued, completely ignoring Ezra like he did most of the time a decade ago. "So, if this was just us playing my murder mystery game, which we should have been doing all weekend, then Blanc wins an iPad Pro this time." He joked softly. "But this is the real world. And in the real world you need more than a neat, little detective story. You need evidence. And you've got… nothing. Do you?"

Ezra looked from Benoit to Helen. He was right. You need evidence and you need witnesses. And if Ezra was going to be the only to side with Helen then the courts would never work out in her favor. Miles had the majority here. 

Benoit pursed his lips, a sad glaze rolling over his eyes. He hated losing in a game as serious as this. "He's right." He sighed, pursing his lips. "The contents of that envelope and his possession of it were our only physical evidence."

"Right." Miles pointed at him, clicking on his lighter yet again to fiddle with it. "Wanna take that to the cops? You wanna take that to the courts?" He laughed quietly, "Look, pick your poison. Anywhere you go, it's going to be your word against mine. How do you think that's gonna go?" 

Benoit took his jacket from the glass pedestal he hung it from and put it on as he walked across the room, ushering Ezra with him by setting a hand on his back.

Miles shrugged, clicking his tongue slightly. "I think it's gonna go about like it went for Andi."

"Jesus." Lionel whispered under his breath, glancing at Helen. He could have been good. But no. Lionel wasn't quite there yet. 

"And I do want to say, your sister was a complicated woman, but she meant the world to me." Miles pursed his lips, trying his best to sound sincere. But if it was sincere… would he have ever killed her? "And I'm so sorry for your loss." 

Dejected, Helen made her way over to Benoit. "Blanc. I need you to do something." Tears started to form at the edges of her eyes, threatening to fall. After all this work and… nothing. 

"I'm sorry, Helen." Benoit shook his head, eyebrows drawing together. "I gave you the truth. This is where my jurisdiction ends. I have to answer to the police, the courts, the system. There's nothing I can do." He took a quick breath as he grabbed the glass with 'Andi' written on it. "Except maybe… offer you some courage." Benoit handed Helen the glass. "And a reminder of why your sister walked away in the first place." He quickly handed her something else, Ezra could only imagine what it was. 

Benoit turned away, whispering to Ezra, "I suggest you and your daughter come with me." He said. It was a very serious tone and Ezra hadn't had the time to think it through much so he followed his instructions.

Ezra grabbed Elle by her arm and walked outside, following Benoit to the docks. He wondered why Benoit was in such a hurry to leave. Or maybe… not? He didn't seem that worried. 

But, well…. The entire Glass Onion blew up a few minutes later and Ezra would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the fireworks. 

"Disruption." Benoit laughed as he took a drag from his cigar. 

"Fuckin' A." Derol laughed as well, his joint firmly between his lips as he lounged on a chair.

Ezra ran a hand through Elle's hair while a proud smile was on his lips. Helen sure knew how to shake things up, Ezra didn't mind though. Miles deserved to have his house blown up.

#benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc #benoit blanc x oc #benoit blanc x ezra wayne #Knives Out #A Knives Out Mystery #glass onion #daniel craig #the missing link #peg (glass onion) #whiskey (glass onion) #Andi Brand #helen brand #Miles Bron #duke cody #claire debella #lionel toussaint #birdie jay #elle wayne #madelyn cline #janelle monae #gay #gay benoit blanc #trans character #edward norton #Dave Bautista #kathryn hahn #Leslie Odom Jr #kate hudson #a rian johnson whodunnit

[heliads]

I was just thinking of sort of a father-child dynamic? Like, he finds the gender-neutral Reader because they're a suspect in one of his murder cases (not the Thrombey case from the movie), and realizes that they're super smart and would make an amazing detective, but he finds out they don't have a home and decides to make them his ward-slash-apprentice? I dunno if you'd actually want to write that, but it's an idea I've had for a while and God knows your writing is ten times better than mine. 😅

i have an obsession with knives out

masterlist / part two

Benoit Blanc does not know how this is going to go down. He has his inklings, of course, a few thoughts and ideas scattered here and there like forgotten Easter Eggs the day after a hunt, but nothing certain yet. His brightly colored plastic pieces of leads have yet to guide him to anything truly worthwhile. 

That’s his favorite part of the entire process, if Benoit were feeling glib enough to put a name to it. Usually, he at least pretends to be somewhat unbiased. Too many investigators these days are in it for the money or fame. Not him, he claims. Of course, it’s not entirely certain that anyone will believe him, but the fact remains. 

No, if Benoit were in this line of work for anything, he’d have to say that it would be for the story. You can’t make this sort of stuff up anywhere, not in the most fantastic thrillers. No trade paperback could even dare to dream up the stories Benoit has seen. You could shell out a million bucks on dime a dozen fictions and still not even scratch the surface of all that Benoit has discovered by way of odd jobs and borrowed reports. 

That isn’t to say that Benoit is against the novel, of course. They certainly have their role in his life, sure as any other person or thing that happens to stumble into his path. Sometimes he thinks that he might have a little fun writing up a book or two based on his own experiences. Most of it would be classified, of course, but certainly he could ad lib enough to hook in a reader or two. 

This isn’t the point, of course. Perhaps that’s as good a sign as any that Benoit’s attempts at literary handicrafts would end in less than mediocre sales. His habits of running headlong from one tangent to the next, often barely connected in topic at all, could scare away even the most fervent readers. He’s had deputies tell him that much more than a few times, and even those less comfortable with chastising their coworkers settle for some raised eyebrows when the moment suits them best. 

Ah, so well then. No novels for him. Not even a particularly lengthy memo if he’s in the mood for sparing the nearest police department from his musings. In the end, though, Benoit doesn’t necessarily need an audience, although he can’t deny that a good reception certainly lends itself to a good time whenever he can get a hold of one. 

For example, right now he’s got a case that’s shaping up nicely in terms of a final deliverance of a verdict. Benoit isn’t judge, jury, and executioner, of course, no matter what dots he connects the end decision will be made by someone other than him, but that doesn’t seem to stop everyone tied to a given case from flocking around him like his word is gold. 

One of these multitudes in particular has been catching his eye for a while. Among the usual number of jilted in-laws and disgruntled passersby who’ve all been corralled into the scene of his latest crime, Benoit cannot help but notice someone who’s been standing on the outskirts of it all. This case is as far from insipid as any other, people cannot help but get themselves involved. Still, one witness seems immune to the waves of melodrama and perilous lies that seem to catch at the sleeves of everyone else here.

He has a problem with being interested in the wrong details. Technically, Benoit should be more invested in the fact that he is here to investigate the death of a wealthy family matriarch, not some kid on the fringe of the whole ordeal, yet the roles are flipped regardless in his head. 

Besides, it’s not like anyone truly needs to worry. Benoit is already twenty percent sure that the killer was the gardener, there were muddy footprints out in the mansion gazebo that look eerily similar to work boots. The mother of a prestigious family had ended up dead one night, drowned in an over chlorinated pool that removed all traces of DNA for the police to investigate. Although the gardener claimed to have been off work that day and thus unable to commit the crime, the prints exist nonetheless. 

Also, it makes no sense for the newly hired gardener to be so committed to his craft that they would be given the keys to the house within a day of submitting an application, yet have not a single callus on their hands. Benoit suspects the gardener to be a plant, likely at the wishes of a disgruntled uncle. Motives are still unclear as of yet, but he has a feeling that explanations will come up if he just pulls at the right string.

In the meantime, as Benoit waits for the house of cards that’s been so precariously built to come tumbling down at last, he peruses the finer details in the whole fiasco. There’s a kid mixed up in all of this, a neighbor down the block who refuses to supply the police with an address or phone number to call. They’re caught up in all of this because they spent time with the murdered matriarch almost on a daily basis. Reports have come in from multiple members of the family of always seeing the kid there whenever they went to visit the mansion.

It’s got Benoit confused, to say the least. He’s seen nurses frequenting the houses of lonely millionaires before, or greedy grandchildren hoping to score a few extra points by hanging around their soon-to-die relatives, but this is something different. There’s no blood connection between this kid and the victim, and so far as he can tell, they weren’t getting any money, either. No job, no expectations, just a home lent out like a library book, free of charge.

It makes no sense. All actions must have an explanation, yet he’s still waiting on this one. The kid is frustratingly hard to track down as well, and Benoit is forced to go about his days simply hoping that they’ll show up and he’ll have enough time to question them before his attention is pulled in another direction.

He gets his chance soon enough. The kid drops by in the morning out of necessity, and although they don’t seem like they’re going to be staying too long, Benoit still manages to snag them before they slip away.

“I’m going to take a lap around the grounds of the house,” he says as casually as he can, “I hear you’re here frequently, I wouldn’t mind a guide. If you’re willing, of course. I would hate to intrude on your personal time.”

The kid– Y/N L/N, he remembers reading in a brief police report that didn’t have much other information– stares at him for a moment, then nods at last. “Sure. I don’t have much else to do anyway.”

Sensing an opening, or perhaps an intentional lack thereof, Benoit presses on as they turn towards the gardens. “What do you mean? I would have thought that somebody your age would be in school. I know you’re required to be here for the proceedings of the investigation, but surely you would have to get to class at some point.”

Y/N shrugs their shoulders. “I mean, yeah, but school doesn’t start for another hour or so. Beside, I figure a murder mystery is somewhat more interesting than high school, yeah?”

Benoit chuckles. “I can’t say I disagree. That being said, you could be involved in more such mysteries if you finished your education. You have to give yourself all the tools possible if you wish to use them, you know? No good comes in building a house if you’ve only got a hammer and nails. It takes much more than that to make something worthwhile.”

Y/N gives him a sideways look. “Is this your way of saying that I’ve got a screw loose for thinking about skipping world history?”

Benoit snorts. “That would be something. Ha! Not intentional, I guarantee you. I have long since learned that it is best to avoid alienating potential suspects.”

Y/N folds their arms across their chest. “You think I did it, then? Am I a primary suspect?”

“Not in the slightest,” he chuckles, “If you did, you’d be a little more alarmed about me singling you out rather than just being afraid that I’d catch you for not having anywhere else to go after this.”

When Y/N’s steps freeze, Benoit knows his shot in the dark has landed, bulls eye and all.

He continues, sensing an advantage. “That is correct, is it not? The deceased gave you a key to her house because it was the best place for you to be when you weren’t at school. She never knew the full depth of it, of course, but she didn’t ask questions. That’s why you stayed.”

“That, and the conversation,” Y/N says through a forced grin. They sigh and give in at last. “Yes, it’s true. Mrs. Gillespie was kind to me. Kinder than I deserved. She didn’t know everything but she knew enough. Once she made it clear that I wasn’t intruding on her hospitality by coming over all the time, it became a habit.”

“And what are you going to do now that staying at the Gillespie residence is no longer an option?” Benoit asks carefully.

When Y/N is silent, he gets the feeling that he knows the answer. Through some situation or another, there is no secondary location lined up. That’s why Y/N has been coming to the crime scene alongside the other members of the family even though it’s clear that they’re not a real suspect. They simply have no other place to go.

It’s clear that the kid is uncomfortable, so Benoit switches the topic towards a discussion of the grounds. Evidently glad for safer subjects, Y/N loses a bit of their guarded edge, and soon enough begins to rattle off details of the mansion and its surrounding land that Benoit didn’t even know after in depth Googling. It is obvious that they have spent a good bit of time wandering the area, especially in the company of the late matriarch.

It is useful information, but Benoit can’t help turning his focus back to what had been said in the very beginning. Even after the case turns its last pages and settles into the storage of his memory, Benoit doesn’t think that he’ll be able to let this one go so easily. Once the handcuffs are snapped onto the wrists of the murderer, there’s still one soul mixed up in this that won’t have such a happy ending. Sometimes justice isn’t just catching killers, it’s making sure that those who are hurt by a crime receive what they deserve. That includes Y/N.

He isn’t sure how they’ll take it when he makes his offer. Benoit pulls Y/N aside on the final day of the investigation. Everyone is just there on protocol to wrap things up, but he needs to talk to them more than anyone else.

“Listen,” he says in the shadow of a quiet room, “I was thinking about what you said earlier. Our conversation on the grounds, that is.”

Judging by the shift in Y/N’s expression, they know exactly what he’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

“I’d like to extend a similar invitation as Mrs. Gillespie,” Benoit explains, “A ward of sorts, I think it could be best summed up.”

Y/N shakes their head quickly. “I don’t want your pity.”

“This isn’t pity,” Benoit promises, “I’ve been watching you just as closely as our red herrings and killers, you know. I’m fairly sure that you figured out this whole case even before I did. Instincts like yours don’t come around all that often. Maybe you won’t be interested in my sort of murder mysteries in five years, or even two, but I’d like your insights while you’re still invested.”

Y/N stays silent for a moment, and just when he’s starting to think that the whole thing will be for naught, they dare to speak again. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Benoit declares, and at last a slow smile breaks across Y/N’s face.

“Alright, then,” they say, “I think I’d like that a lot. You know, I never thought much about actually becoming a detective. Usually my investigative exploits were limited to books, you know? Encyclopedia Brown and all that.”

“Let’s make it real, then,” Benoit offers, “I happen to know a few cases in need of solving over the next few months.”

He solemnly extends a hand, and after a second, Y/N shakes it, their face just as serene. They break eventually, twin smiles crashing through even the most severe of expressions. Just like that, Benoit has a feeling that his investigations are going to be all the better. Sometimes all it takes is a fresh pair of eyes on a case that’s haunted you for a while. The problems to come his way, the challenges to be set before him, they will still be just as difficult as before, if not more so. It’s a good thing, though, that he’s got an apprentice by his side to help him sort things out.

Yes, he has a feeling that they’re going to do just fine.

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

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